Of Men and Men -- 1
I would like to introduce Paul. His story is one many of you will
recognize. Paul, although a real person, is like so many others. An
amalgam not easily disentangled from the people and places that have
surrounded him over the years.
His earliest memories are, oddly enough, erotic ones. One image in
particular remains quite vivid for him. The setting is a simple,
working-class neighborhood, and Paul and some of his friends are
playing house in the little secluded alcove separating the rectory
of the local parish from the adjacent building (it was probably a store
of some kind). The children were too young to know for sure.
Paul was the daddy and Jay was one of several children. All the
players were no more than four or five years old. As when playing
"doctor," there came a time when an activity involving exposure
was to occur. Jay had just been a bad boy and it was Paul's role to
spank him. Paul sat down on the platform behind the rectory and told
Jay to come stand in front of him. They had all played these games
before and knew quite well how everyone was supposed to behave in their
respective roles.
"Why did you hit your sister?" daddy asked of Jay.
"She took my toys and wouldn't give them back," he responded defensively.
"I've told you before what would happen if you hit your sister," Paul
said to Jay, in the most authoritative voice he could muster.
And then the ritual began. While the other children looked on, the daddy
told the child to unfasten his shorts (it was high summer) and bend over
his knee. Jay did as he was told, and Paul proceeded to pull both the
shorts and the underwear down, exposing the silken cheeks of Jay's
tiny buttocks. For some unknown reason, the ritual was rapidly
approaching its climax. Paul's heart was racing with excitement as
he began to strike Jay's bottom.
They weren't the sort of strokes that caused pain. The children were
playing and exploring, and the unspoken rules were clear that no one
should be hurt. They were erotic spanks. They were a perfect excuse
for Paul to touch the flesh of his companion's behind, even if only
for the fleeting moments that spanks allow.
They were always unusually long spankings which would end only when
daddy had made the child's buttocks a light shade of pink.
Paul's tiny penis had grown erect as his friend lay over his lap.
For reasons no one could understand at the time, the entire experience
had been exhilirating.
Of Men and Men -- 2
Call it lucky or unlucky (it all depends on how you view
these things), the frequency of these erotic experiences waned as
Paul's ability to understand and appreciate them developed. There
were countless episodes of playing house and doctor that could be
conjured up if he thought hard enough about them. There was the
time, for instance, when Jay and his two brothers slept over Paul's
house and Jay produced his penis for everyone to look at and
giggle about. It was not funny, however, when he decided to take
the "game" a step further by urinating (inexplicably) on the floor
next to the bunk bed Paul shared with his brother James.
Suddenly Jay was the focus of much reproach as the assemblage of
young boys were confronted with the equally unpleasant choices of
somehow cleaning up the urine or being punished by the adults
who, given the pandemonium in the room, were sure to appear at
any moment.
For reasons which can be explained another time, from this
night forward Jay was always associated in people's minds (or at
least in Paul's) with pee and poop.
It was only in reflecting back on these very early
experiences that Paul was able to figure out what made them so
intensely exciting, and thus memorable. It was not until he was
twelve that anything even remotely erotic happened to him.
It was that year that he entered junior high school. The
transition was more than just switching buildings from his
elementary school to the middle school. It was a quantum leap in
his understanding of what it meant to develop as a male.
No single experience was more intriguing and eye-opening
than the evening he accompanied one of his friends to the junior
high school to pick up the friend's older brother, who was a ninth-
grader (and a symbol of unachievable maturity from the
perspective of the younger boys just arriving in seventh grade).
The gymnasium, and sports in general, take on a new
meaning after elementary school. Through the initiation to the
locker room and the gang shower, it is the first time boys come to
associate sports explicitly with its erotic dimensions.
When Paul and his friend entered this new environment in
search of the older brother (who was on the basketball team), it
was as if they had entered into a steamy cavern, darkly lit, full of
echoing sounds coming from everywhere and nowhere.
Paul's eyes were drawn to the shapes of the dozens of
bodies he saw milling around the locker room. The sheer level of
activity, combined with the fact that all the boys were moving
about with only towels wrapped about their waists, bewildered Paul
enormously. He didn't know where to look next. He began to be
aware of where he wanted to look.
Moments later Paul was face to face with a most astonishing
sight. When they came upon the older brother in front of his
locker, he was standing completely uncovered. He was reaching
into his locker for his white underwear. When he stepped back
and turned slightly in the direction of the two younger boys, Paul's
eyes dropped to the ninth-grader's groin, which had a patch of
dark hair clearly visible above a penis which was substantially
larger than anything Paul had ever seen before (and certainly
larger than his own and Jay's -- the penis he'll never forget).
In that moment, Paul felt his first consciously homo-erotic
impulse. He wanted desperately to touch the older boys penis. It
was, in a word, simply beautiful.
Of Men and Men -- 3
Being transfixed by the sight of the maturing genitals
of the older boy was Paul's earliest conscious realization of
his attraction to people of his own sex. He was both excited
and mortified in the same moment.
Suddenly he was jolted backward to a playground
experience in early elementary school. In kindergarten
teachers always made the little kids walk hand-in-hand,
forming parallel columns. It was an effort to keep the kids
from scattering in several directions at once.
The normal thing to do was for boys to hold hands
with other boys, and the same for the girls. Neither group
had the slightest interest in holding hands with members of
the opposite sex. Children are still innocent at this age.
They haven't been taught to abhor physical contact with
same-sex friends.
Paul was in first or second grade, and he was about to
learn a formative lesson in being a "normal" male. He was
on the playground at recess time, and he was moving about
the area with his close friend Mark, with whom he would
walk to school each morning. They were holding hands, as
they had always done--indeed, as they had so many times
been required to do.
The playground attendant, a youngish housewife from
the neighborhood who volunteered at the noon hour to keep
an eye on the children as they frolicked, was walking in a
determined fashion toward Paul and his companion. Their
faces brightened as she approached, thinking she was going to
invite them to join in a game or something.
"Hi Mrs. Clemson," Mark said. Paul expressed his
greeting with a broad smile.
Without saying a word, she leaned forward and
slapped the two boys' hands just hard enough to break their
light grip on each other.
The two were dumbfounded. After a moment, Mrs.
Clemson spoke.
"Haven't you two learned yet that boys don't hold
hands with boys?" she demanded.
They looked at each other in horror. Paul was so
shaken he began to cry. Meanwhile, all Mark could think of
was was the stinging sensation on the top of his hand, where
Mrs. Clemson had connected.
"Do you want people to think you're sissies, or
something?" she added insistently.
"No," the two boys answered in unison, not having the
faintest idea what sissies were.
Of Men and Men -- 4
These images from the past swept in rapid succession through
Paul's mind, mingling bitter-sweetly with the sensations he was
now feeling as Michael's strong hands and tender lips were
exploring every reach of his body.
Paul had matured into a handsome young man. Standing a
solid six feet, he caught the attention of men and women alike. It
was only the men, however, who saw the flash of Paul's brilliant
smile and the look of recognition in his eyes as he passed them on
the street.
Moaning almost inaudibly as Michael's tongue slipped down
toward his groin, Paul's palms alighted on Michael's head, gently
stroking his thick black hair and half-consciously encouraging the
motion downward. Michael has been teasing Paul with his kisses
and strokes for what seemed like an eternity, and Paul was now
beside himself with the desire to feel that first delirious sensation of
Michael's mouth on his cock.
Paul arched his back slightly as he felt Michael's warm breath
over his hardened penis. But Michael would not relent. Rather
than plunge his mouth on Paul's cock, he extended his tongue fully
and ran it slowly from base up to the head, and then back down
again. Paul arched still higher as Michael slid his hands under the
flexed muscles of his ass.
And in that same ecstatic moment, Paul is spanking Jay
again, in a steamy locker room, and sounds echo from every
direction, sounds of little children playing at recess, saying
unintelligible things like boys shouldn't touch boys.
Of Men and Men -- 5
It was a dreary Monday morning. The sunshine of the
weekend had given way to a gray rain that looked like it was
going to be around for some time. Making the morning even
more depressing was a stack of dozens of reports and memos
piled precariously high on Paul's desk. He could work non-stop
all day and not get through them, he thought to himself. The
idea of dumping the whole pile into the trash and starting with a
clean slate was very appealing.
But it was also a nice way to get sacked, and he was just
beginning to enjoy some of the nicer things about being out of
school--finally--and supporting himself comfortably.
Paul was a strong achiever. In terms of brightness, he was
definitely placed on the high end of the curve. His office had
worked extremely hard to recruit him. He couldn't help
wondering sometimes if being wanted so badly actually made
him more able than most gay men to be open about his romantic
interest in men.
Would they have hired him if they knew he had actually
clocked many hours sucking on other mens' cocks? How could
the straight men and women surrounding him at work deal with
the image of Paul with his legs raised in the air and his ass
swallowing another man's enlarged penis to its base? Surely
such images would be foremost in their minds!
But could they also imagine the joy, the pleasure, the
satisfaction? Could they ever appreciate the fact that the love
he had felt for other men was no different from what they felt
for their partners?
It was amusing to Paul that images of heterosexual
intercourse did not disgust him in the least--not even the part
about licking a woman's vagina and clitoris. And this despite
hearing from not a few men that the odors and fluids down there
were not always the most palatable.
No, he was not disgusted or revolted. He was just
indifferent--which was all he felt he asked of straights in return.
But this, apparently, was asking too much. Just that weekend, in
fact, as he lay blissfully in Michael's reassuring arms, one of his
acquaintances was having his skull split open by three young men
who had lured him into a secluded area.
The source of the fear and anxiety behind attacks like
these was deeply puzzling for Paul. What could possibly provoke
such anger and violence? What possible justification could
society offer?
Of Men and Men -- 6
The buzzer sounded on Paul's desk.
"Yes?" he asked, leaning closer to the intercom.
"Will you take a call from Michael, Mr. Peterson?" the secretary
asked.
"Yeah, thanks Sandy." Paul paused a long moment, then hit the
flashing button. "Hi Michael. Are you at work already?"
"It's 9:30, silly. Of course I'm at work," Michael responded, in a
playful tone. Paul glanced at his watch. The morning was passing
fast, and he really didn't have the time to chit-chat with Michael. "The
gym is pretty empty right now, except for a couple old farts wandering
around," Michael added, amused with his observation.
Paul's response was delayed. He could tell Michael was bored
and trying to fill his vacant morning.
"Look, Michael," Paul began, "I can't really talk right now.
I'm buried under my work this morning. Are we getting together at
your place tonight?"
"Sure," Michael said brightly, "I'm already hard just thinking about
it." Paul, too, had a half-erection imagining Michael in his work outfit,
his broad shoulders and strong arms nicely accented by a tank-top shirt
and his firm, rounded ass outlined by a pair of spandex shorts.
Paul's secretary came in as he was hanging up the phone. He
pulled his chair forward slightly so she wouldn't notice his bulging
crotch.
The smell of Michael's cologne drifted upward as Paul lowered himself
and kissed his neck. He continued downward to his nipples, which were
already fully erect from more than an hour of foreplay. Paul's penis
was slowly sliding into Michael's lubricated anus, and Paul knew from
experience that his partner's moans were a mixture of pleasure and pain
as he adjusted to the penetration. Michael's legs were resting over
Paul's shoulders, and his hands were wrapped around Paul's ass, pulling
his firmly inward.
Paul began biting on Michael's right nipple as the pace and length
of his strokes increased. With one of his hands, Paul had applied a
liberal supply of lubricant to Michael's cock and was also working its
full length. Paul knew that few men could long endure what he called
"the ecstatic triangle" of nipple, ass, and cock stimulation.
Michael's hand was now on Paul's, trying to slow the masturbation.
The explosion of cum was building rapidly, and he wanted to prolong
the sensations of the fuck. Paul could feel himself building to a climax
too. He would let himself go as soon as he felt the spasms of ejaculation
in the muscles of Michael's asshole.
"Oh, god," Michael exclaimed, "I'm going to come!"
"Yeah..... come... come," Paul said, as he fucked Michael's ass so
hard that his balls slapped up against his bottom. Paul pushed his
cock in to the base as he too shot in delirious waves.
Of Men and Men -- 7
Selecting a tie was never easy for Paul. He stood in front of
his wardrobe holding several ties up to his many shirts and jackets.
His high position of status and power would surely surprise his
friends and associates from childhood. Who would believe Paul had
grown up from such simple working-class origins to become an
Associate Vice-President for Investment and Finance for a major
American University? And by the young age of thirty!
Ties and suit-jackets were not an element from his past.
Paul's father held a series of factory jobs, while his mother worked
nights to help make ends meet. It was a combination of luck and
hard work that permitted Paul to attend one of the country's leading
liberal arts colleges, and then continue his graduate studies at Yale's
School of Organization and Management. By the time he finished
school, he was being courted by all the top financial houses on Wall
Street. But he had nothing but disdain for the high-stakes, material
existence of big-city investment bankers and analysts. Although he
was not a scholar, he had come to love the university lifestyle. He
jumped at the opportunity to manage the investment portfolio of
one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning on the
West Coast.
Even if Paul lacked a designer's flair for picking the ideal tie,
he nevertheless had a wardrobe any man would envy. He cultivated
his eye for the sharp lines of a fine suit and trousers back in his
mid-teens when he worked after high school in the Suits and Shoes
section of the Macy's store in his town.
For the most part, working in a department store (even
Macy's!) was astonishingly boring for Paul. There were long
stretches when no one would walk into his section. All the
"associates," as they were called, had strict orders not to wander out
of their designated areas, and like the others, Paul would prowl the
outlines of his territory in search of ANYTHING to break the
boredom and make the clock turn faster.
The single redeeming aspect of his job was that as a salesman
of suits, he was permitted great license in touching the bodies of his
customers as they tried on different jackets and pants. (Paul hated
kneeling down and placing shoes on men's stinky feet, by the way!)
He loved running his hands over the broad and strong shoulders of
the men in their twenties.
"How does that feel?" Paul would ask, as if he was referring
to the fit of the jacket.
"Great," they would always reply. The best part, and at times
the most dangerous, was when Paul would be down on his knees
measuring the inseam of his customer's trousers. It was enormously
erotic for Paul to be a breath away from all these men's crotches as
he placed his tape-measure just below their balls and stretched it to
their heels. And they'd just stand there for him!!
The worst part was when he'd have to stand up again.
Although he was still quite young, his cock was already mature
enough to be prominent when erect.
Of Men and Men -- 8
Sandy was on the phone when Paul paused in front of his secretary's
door. She looked up as Paul motioned toward the office door. "I'm going
out for a short while," Paul whispered loudly, exaggerating the words on his
lips. "I'll be back in time for the portfolio review meeting, ok?" Sandy
smiled and nodded as she jotted something down from the phone caller.
It was just before 2:00 p.m., and Paul would have to hurry if he was
to avoid being late for the 2:30 meeting with his boss and the university
provost. He took the elevator down to the ground floor and headed
toward the computer engineering building. It was on the other side of
campus, and most importantly, in a realm of the university far removed
from Paul's post in the administration building.
He entered the side door of Barrows Hall and took the stairway
down to the basement level. With neither classrooms nor labs on the
lowest floor, there was very little traffic. The quiet of the area made Paul
brave. He walked in steady and familiar strides to the door marked "men"
at the end of the darkly lit corridor. As he approached, a youngish man,
maybe nineteen years old, emerged looking slightly embarrassed. After a
lingering look at each other, Paul averted his eyes, passed the young man,
and entered a small atrium.
It had all the classic characteristics of a T-room. Off the beaten
path. A squeaky outer door. A second one before entering the area with
the urinals and stalls.
Paul's pulse quickened slightly as he walked forward several paces
and pulled the inner door open. To the left was a line of six stalls with
dark wooden doors on springs. Paul glanced downward and noticed that
two stalls were occupied, with one empty stall between them. He was sure
that the guy who just walked out must have been in the middle. In front of
the stalls was a line of sinks, and Paul considered walking over and giving
his hands a long wash as he tried to make up his mind about entering one
of the empty spots next to the two men already waiting.
Directly in front of Paul was a large mirror. He looked again at his
suit and tie. He still wasn't sure the match was right. To the right was a
line of seven or eight urinals, and Paul noticed that someone was standing
at the one farthest from the door. The man had jet-black hair and was
almost as tall as Paul's six feet. From his profile Paul could see the man
had very handsome features. Paul decided to step up to a urinal two
positions away from the end spot where the man was standing.
Paul looked straight ahead at the wall as he unzipped his trousers
and pulled out his cock. He didn't have to urinate too urgently, but he
was able to muster a respectable flow. He listened to hear if the man to
his left was still relieving himself. There was no sound.
Paul turned his head slightly and glanced for the first time to get a
closer look at the guy. He became slightly excited as he realized that the
man was even more strikingly handsome than he looked from afar. His
cheek bones were high and his facial features were sculptured. His nose
was not prominent, but he had a strong chin. His skin looked firm and
healthy, and was a soft brown. The man did not glance back in Paul's
direction, and so Paul did not let his eyes linger too long. Before facing
forward, Paul swept his eyes downward in hopes of catching a glimpse of
the man's penis. But he was standing too close to the urinal.
Paul was unsure. Clearly this guy had been standing at the urinal for
an unusually long time. "I've heard of long shits, but nobody pisses this
long," Paul thought to himself. He was strongly attracted to the man, but
knew that police sometimes tried to trap gay men with undercover
operations. The man looked old enough to be a police officer. Maybe he
was in his late twenties. Asian men always look younger than they really
are.
Just as Paul got up his nerve to move over one urinal closer to the
man, he heard the outer door opening. Startled, he reached up and pulled
the toilet plunger. In the same instant, the mysterious man turned his head
in Paul's direction. He would never forget those eyes!
"Am I late?" Paul asked Sandy, as he rushed into his office to gather
the folders opened on his desk.
"No, they just stepped into the conference room," Sandy said,
handing Paul his phone messages. "Michael called," she added. Her face
was blank, but Paul wondered if her mention of Michael signified she
suspected something.
Paul organized his thoughts as he walked down the hall toward the
conference room. "Stop thinking about him," he muttered to himself.
Of Men and Men -- 9
Paul's boss, one of the university's four vice-presidents, was
wrapping up the meeting. A new system for managing the university's
huge investment portfolio was about to be designed. Paul had taken
copious notes, and his hand was a bit tired.
"We've asked one of our new professors in computer science to
come over and discuss the sort of customized software we'll need to
design," Paul's boss said, while peering through his bifocals at the name
at the top of the memo in front of him. "Dr. Adrian..... Roxas will be
stopping by this afternoon to confer with you, Paul," he added,
mispronouncing the last name, despite a long pause to think it over.
Paul's eyes flashed a look of approval as he gathered his notes
and papers. On his way into his office Sandy handed him his phone
messages.
"Michael called again," she said in a monotone. It was unusual
for callers not to leave their last name. Paul nodded, trying to look as
undisturbed as possible about Michael's frequent calls. Closing his
office door behind him, he turned his chair toward the window and
propped his feet on the ledge. His eyelids drifted shut as he slipped
into a restful daydream. In a matter of moments he was carried back
to the afternoon hour, and he was once again standing next to the dark
and commanding figure in the T-room.
Now in the limitless realm of his subconscious, Paul was
recreating every detail of that electric moment when the mysterious
man at the urinal turned and looked at him with deep brown eyes that
almost made Paul gasp in the moment they fixed on his. But instead of
the door opening and startling Paul back into reality, the two men were
not disturbed. Paul was transfixed by the young man's gaze. There was
a massive intelligence behind his eyes. Slowly, a faint smile formed on
the man's lips. And in the same moment, the two turned toward each
other--still silent so that the others in the stalls remained unaware of
the events unfolding just a few yards from where they sat.
Both men had their genitals exposed, and as they moved closer,
they reached out to stroke each other gently. The man's features were
even stronger head-on than they appeared to Paul from the side. His
skin was flawlessly smooth, and his hands had an almost manicured, but
still quite masculine, look to them. This same, beautiful hand was
massaging Paul's cock as it grew larger and larger with every thump of
his heart. Paul tried to control his breath, but his chest was heaving
from the excitement. Paul was feeling the man's balls, which were
enclosed in a perfect sack of warm and hairless flesh. Above his hand,
the man's penis, which had more girth than length, stood fully erect
with a pearl of precum forming at its opening.
Paul was startled nearly out of his chair by the sound of the
buzzer on his desk. He was certain it was yet another call from
Michael.
"Yes, Sandy?" Paul said, adjusting his hard-on with one hand.
"Prof. Adrian Roxas is here to see you," the voice from the box
announced.
"I'll be out in a minute," Paul responded, releasing the talk
button on the intercom. He put on his sport coat to help cover what
remained of the rise in his crotch, and walked toward the door. When
he opened it, he looked so stunned that Sandy rose from her desk in a
reflex of concern.
"Prof. ....... Roxas?" Paul stammered. The mysterious man was a
mystery no more.
Of Men and Men -- 10
The expanse of Michael's back was truly a sight to behold. It
was a perfect triangular form, starting at his massive shoulders (the sort
most queens try to approximate with pads in their garments) and
narrowing gently to his belt-line. Every time Michael lowered his head
onto Paul's shaft, Paul caught another glimpse of his back.
Paul was seated on a black leather sofa in the living room of
Michael's modest flat. It was still light outside, but there were no
neighboring buildings from which a lucky voyeur might look on.
Michael was kneeling on the floor in front of Paul, and his well-define
arms were wrapped comfortably behind the small of Paul's back. Each
slow, rhythmic raising of Michael's head revealed the glistening length
of Paul's cock protruding from the zipper of his trousers.
Although he was having a terrible time pulling himself away, this
is not what Paul wanted. He had tried hard not to let Michael turn his
visit into a sexual encounter, but Paul had become almost addicted to
this man's erotic magic. Half lost in the sensations of Michael's warm,
wet mouth on his penis, he struggled once again to collect his thoughts.
"Michael...," he said, in as unsexual a tone as he could produce.
"Ummhmm," came the response, followed by an especially
pleasurable downward thrust on Paul's cock. Paul knew that if he
didn't stop Michael soon, he would be on the verge of a very powerful
ejaculation.
"Michael, I don't want to come," Paul pleaded.
"Yes you do," Michael returned playfully, plunging his mouth yet
again to the base of Paul's cock and holding it there while moving his
tongue wildly around its shaft.
"Look," Paul began, trying to push Michael away, "I don't know
how to say this without hurting you..... but I don't think we should see
each other anymore."
Michael stopped abruptly and looked up to see if Paul's eyes
would hint he was joking. His lips were wet with saliva. Paul's cock
felt cold as his erection started to subside.
"I've wanted to tell you for some time now that I'm seeing
someone else," Paul added, after an interminable pause. "I'm in love
with him."
Of Men and Men -- 11
To hear Paul say he had fallen in love with another man came as
a complete shock to Michael. Sure, Paul had been acting a bit
differently, and he seemed to have a lots less free time. But the idea
that Paul was becoming deeply involved with someone else had not
occurred to Michael.
"What do you mean you're in love another man?" Michael asked,
rising slowly to his feet. Paul was fumbling uncomfortably with his fly,
trying to zip his zipper without catching any foreskin. He was hurting
Michael, despite trying so hard to find a way of letting him down gently.
As Paul searched his heart and mind for the right words to say, he was
certain of one thing: he could not reveal to him that it's not an issue of
being in love with "another" man. Though he felt a genuine warmth for
Michael, Paul never loved him.
"I don't know what to say," Paul responded, trying desperately to
buy time and to fill the void of silence left in the air by Michael's
question.
Despite his size and strength, Michael appeared deflated as he
settled back on the sofa. Paul turned toward him to offer comfort, but
it was clear Michael did not want him near just then. Certainly not
under these circumstances. In the midst of the quiet interlude between
them, Paul's mind replayed the conversation he had had with Adrian
that morning.
"I know it's not going to be easy, but you've got to tell him,"
Adrian whispered. He and Paul were lying on their sides, with Adrian's
arm draped over Paul. It was a bright morning, and Paul felt at peace
in Adrian's arms.
Paul didn't answer. He reached behind him and pulled Adrian's
naked body more firmly against his own. He didn't remove his hand
from the smooth, tight flesh of Adrian's thigh. Paul could feel the
erection rising slowly against his buttocks, but he decided not to turn
and respond. He wanted instead to just lie there a bit longer and savor
the moment. Adrian remained motionless. After a long silence, he
spoke again.
"If the commitment we made to each other last night is to have
any meaning," Adrian said in a gentle tone, "both of us need to talk to
the men we've been seeing." Again, Paul was silent, but he knew that
his lover's words were reasonable and true. And despite the anguish he
felt as he thought about how Michael would react, in that moment, with
Adrian lying next to him, he felt content. "I want this never to end," he
said to himself.
Of Men and Men -- 12
The three months since Paul and Adrian met in the T-
room (and later the same day in Paul's office) had marked a new
chapter in the lives of both men. Even as he sat there next to
Michael, who was now sobbing in a way no one could imagine
possible for a man of Michael's demeanor, Paul's heart was not
entirely in touch with the emotions of the moment.
Had he just been stronger and ended his liaison with
Michael as soon as he realized he was falling in love with
Adrian, he would not be facing the mess he was now in. Paul
had been aware almost from his first date with Michael, nearly a
year ago, that their relationship would always be mostly physical.
Paul was fond of Michael. Everyone was! He had a charming
personality and a body to die for. But he was not very bright,
and his work as a trainer in a health club was a fairly good
indicator of his intellectual potential.
What Michael lacked in the intellectual stimulation
department he more than made up for in bed--and on the sofa,
and in the shower, and on the living room floor, and on the
highway heading to Portland, and in a dozen other places they
had fucked and sucked and masturbated. Paul had had sex with
quite a few men in his day, but no one could stimulate and
satisfy him in the way this man could. And this was Paul's
weakness when it came to not telling him about Adrian. The
cruel and selfish part was that Paul knew Michael was falling in
love with him. And by sleeping with him again and again, he let
his "fuck-buddy's" feelings deepen.
"You've never loved me, have you?" Michael asked
quietly. This question, put so directly and with so much pain,
sliced even through Paul's granite exterior. He turned and
pulled Michael tightly into his arms. Michael cried
uncontrollably. And for the first time in more than five years,
tears filled Paul's eyes and slid slowly down his cheek.
Of Men and Men -- 13
Three months had passed between the day Paul first met Adrian and
that heart-wrenching afternoon when he held Michael in his embrace for
the last time. The contrast in emotions could not have been greater.
Paul quickly regained his composure as Prof. Adrian Roxas rose to
his feet and walked toward Paul's office, extending his hand and looking as
if this was the first time they had ever laid eyes upon each other. Paul
wasn't sure, as he closed the door behind them, whether this man even
realized that he and Paul had met earlier that afternoon in the T-room,
standing by the urinals. And because just a few moments before, Paul had
been enjoying his fantasies about what the two men COULD have done
together had they not been interrupted, he was having a little trouble as the
two were entering his office separating reality from fiction.
When he turned from the door dividing his office from his
secretary's, he was startled to discover that Adrian had not moved into the
open space of the office, but instead was standing directly behind Paul.
Before he could say a word, his visitor stepped forward and wrapped his
arms over Paul's shoulders and pulled their two bodies firmly against each
other.
Adrian's lips, which were full and warm, landed squarely on Paul's.
Paul's eyes closed--partly as a reflex and partly because of the collision of
their faces. Adrian's tongue was now parting Paul's lips and probing the
space which was slowly opening between his teeth. Still a bit off balance,
Paul reached his arms around the small of Adrian's back, coming to rest on
his belt.
Paul's tongue met Adrian's now, and for a while they danced
playfully under the two men's lips. Then Paul thrust his tongue deeply into
the man's mouth. Adrian's head was pressed backward slightly, and he
made an almost imperceptible groan as his embrace behind Paul's neck
tightened. His heart pounding with excitement and fear (Sandy, his
secretary, could open the door at any moment!!), Paul finally broke away
from Adrian's passionate kiss.
"My God!" Paul exclaimed in a whisper.
"How nice to meet again... and so soon," Adrian responded, his
breath quite irregular as his chest heaved in the ecstasy of the moment.
Of Men and Men -- 14
It was mid afternoon, and Paul had just come home from
school. His mother, who was usually still at work, happened to
be home. Paul was thirteen at the time.
He loved his mother very much. No one in the family of six
communicated together as well as Paul and his mom. They shared a
special bond others in the family could not match. Paul's older
brother seemed jealous at times of this relationship. Paul,
meanwhile, never envied his brother's closer relations (such as
they were) to their father.
Everyone was watching the TV. The Phil Donahue show was on.
The year was 1973--long before the genre of TV shows parading
every imaginable social oddity was the norm. Phil was a trail-
blazer in this regard. A pioneer.
Paul only glanced at the screen for a moment as he strolled
into the living room. He was distracted by the way his mother's
eyes appeared to be frozen to the screen. She looked up and
smiled uncomfortably for a fleeting second. They both looked
back at the screen. Something was not right.
Paul listened carefully to try to figure out what Phil's
guests were talking about. There were two sets of adults,
husbands and wives from the look of things. One of the couples
was holding hands while the other two sat back in their chairs in
a more relaxed position. Paul's mother was leaning slightly
forward on the sofa.
"We're not ashamed of our son," said one of the men,
somewhat sheepishly. The woman next to him, who looked like she
was about the age of Paul's grandmother, nodded her head in
silent agreement.
"What did he do, mom?" Paul inquired. There was no
immediate answer.
"He's a fag," Paul's older brother filled in, laughing
derisively. He wasn't completely certain what a fag was or did,
but he knew there was something disgusting and repulsive
involved. Paul's eyes flashed back to his mother's, but she
continued to stare at the screen.
Phil was holding a large microphone to the mouth of a member
of the audience, who kept saying the word "sin" over and over.
Other people in the audience were nodding their heads as the
camera panned out. Now a caller from Florida was speaking
excitedly. Everyone was looking up as if the voice was coming
from heaven or somewhere. Paul just stood there in visible
discomfort as the male voice coming over the speakers blathered
on.
"I'm sorry, but people like your sons are just perverts,"
the anonymous caller opined, pausing to organize his thoughts.
"And I can't believe you've got the nerve to come on this show...
displaying your soiled laundry for the whole country to see...."
Paul was mortified inside. He looked again at his mother.
As she got up and headed past Paul toward the kitchen, she
sighed, "I hope none of you ever tells me you're gay......."
Of Men and Men -- 15
Paul sat in the room he shared with his brother. Most early
evenings he had the room to himself because his brother was
always at one athletic practice or another. Paul was strong,
agile, and dexterous like his older brother, but team sports,
with their accent on macho-bonding, had very little appeal to
him.
So many thoughts were swimming in Paul's head at once. The
tantalizing image of the boys he had seen in the locker room.
How his math teacher would look without clothes on. How it would
feel to touch his arms, chest, or the sculptured, firm roundness
of his buttocks. Paul never looked at the equations when his
math teacher turned his back to write at the chalkboard.
It had not been a good day overall. At school there were
the games to be played about chasing girls. As Paul sat in the
cafeteria with his friends, the talk turned quickly to who was
"going" with whom, and what sorts of sex games the various boys
had engaged in recently with the girls. Paul did his best to
chime in, but the others seemed to sense how his stories fell
flat. It wasn't just that they were wild concoctions--all the
boys were engaging in beefy exaggerations. It was that Paul
could not conjure convincing images. There was no passion or
excitement in his tall tales, and Paul fell silent after a few
awkward comments.
Then there was the episode before dinner with the Donahue
show. Paul had been terrified by the discussion. His worst
imaginable fears of being discovered were realized in that moment
when his eyes met his mother's. Pride and courage were clashing
with hatred and narrow-mindedness right there on the tube. And
in Paul's own living room. Why did they have to talk about this
subject so openly like that? Paul felt like a frightened little
animal caught with his eyes a-glow in a harsh and exposing light,
leaving him suddenly blind and naked with no retreat.
And as these thoughts swirled in Paul's mind, they mixed
with the vision of being rejected by his mother, the only person
he truly believed loved him. Until just a few hours before, he
was sure that her love was unconditional and forever. But after
seeing the face of his mother's own desperate fear, after hearing
her say, in effect, "please don't ever tell me such a thing,"
Paul was no longer sure of anything.
He moved to the bed and lay down, burying his face lightly
in his pillow. He now felt more alone than he had ever been.
More alone than most people can ever fathom. And for the first
time, he actually said the words out loud to himself. Muffled
into the pillow he whispered a truth he had known for years, one
he could no longer deny inside: "I am gay.... I am gay...." He
began to cry with a shudder that reverberated through the
mattress. He cried for a lost and searching thirteen-year-old.
He cried for a little boy named Paul.